"Sempu," said Sylwanin. "I am glad Eywa sent you back to us. I missed you."

"As did I," added her mother, a speculative look in her eye.

Mìnkxetse looked cautiously at his mate. It looked like he was in trouble, a great deal of trouble. "Sylwanin," he said, "I think you should go to Tsawlontu and Kalinkey. Your mother and I wish to have words."

"Oh," his daughter said brightly. "Are you going to fight again?" Her parents always seemed very happy the morning after they fought. Sylwanin thought they did it for fun, and she looked forward to when she could find a young male to fight with. However, she had not told either of her parents of this desire, as she suspected it would get her in a great deal of trouble. In any case, she was quite happy to wait a little while longer, until she was bigger.

"Srane," agreed Zha'nelle. "We are going to fight."

Their daughter grinned and scampered off without another word.

As soon as Sylwanin disappeared, Zha'nelle raised an eyebrow and asked, "Well?"

Mìnkxetse knew very well what he was being asked – where the hell had he been for the last two weeks. No matter what he said he was going to be in a great deal of trouble. "I overflew my ikran escaping from a kunsip," he said. "I landed on the nearest floating mountain, and there was no way down."

Much to his surprise, Zha'nelle asked him calmly, "Tell me everything."

She listened quietly as he recounted his story, without a single interruption. Mìnkxetse became more and more worried – it was most unlike his mate. After he finished, he asked, "You're not angry?"

"I was, but not any more," she replied. Then Zha'nelle chuckled lightly, saying, "I think I detect the hand of Eywa in your misfortune, given the events that have just taken place here." She gestured around her, indicating the entirety of the depression of Vitraya Ramunong. "It would be ungracious of me to blame you."

Mìnkxetse's shoulders sagged in relief. He had been worried about Zha'nelle's reaction to his absence for well over a week.

Thus, the short but vicious punch she gave him directly to the solar plexus came as something of a surprise, knocking all the air out of his lungs, and causing him to sink to his knees, below the fronds of the Tree of Souls.

"I thought you said you didn't blame me," he wheezed.

She laughed, "I said I didn't blame you. Not that I wasn't going to punish you."

Slowly he began chuckle and then laugh with her. This was the woman that he had fallen in love with – difficult, cantankerous and unpredictable. He loved every fiery inch of her.

Zha'nelle sprang upon Mìnkxetse, and covered him with kisses, murmuring, "I was sure I had lost you, my love. Please don't leave me again."

"I won't," he promised.

As they joined in tsahaylu beneath the boughs of the Tree of Souls, Zha'nelle's heart filled with love for her mate, for her daughter and her adopted world, and she Saw that Mìnkxetse would keep his promise until the day she departed to the embrace of Eywa.

After they had mated, and lay in each other's arms, Mìnkxetse asked his mate, "Is what you told Mo'at true? That you can no longer See into the future?"

"That isn't what I said," replied Zha'nelle. "I said that I could tell Mo'at no more."

"What?" he asked.

"The gift of prophecy cannot be taken away once Eywa has given it," she answered. Zha'nelle could see well into the future, and on most of the possible paths, the future of the Na'vi was bright. Not that anything was certain, of course.

Mìnkxetse sighed, "I was looking forward to a quiet life."

"My part in setting the path of the Na'vi is done," she told her mate. "There is nothing I can say or do that will have any significant impact on the future of the Na'vi. My life – our life – will be quite ordinary now. I have Seen this." Zha'nelle was glad Eywa had shown her this thing, and that she would not share the fate of Kassandra.

"Irayo Eywa ne fì'u fmawn," murmured Mìnkxetse, and kissed his mate gently. At least, it started out gently, until it evolved into something much better than just a simple kiss.

A long time afterwards, when Mìnkxetse allowed Zha'nelle to speak again, she said, "There is one piece of prophecy I have Seen that you might like to know, my love."

"What might that be?" he asked curiously.

"It's not going to happen for a while though," she said.

Mìnkxetse grimaced in thought for a few seconds. "I think I'll wait. I'd rather not spoil the surprise."

Zha'nelle laughed happily. If her mate wanted to wait, that was fine by her. After all, he would only have to wait nine months. Exactly nine months.

Even now Zha'nelle could feel the tiny life-spark of the single cell within her body that would grow into their son.

THE END

Author's Note

For those who wish to read the full story of Na'diakhudoshin, I suggest you read my stories in the following order:

- New Steps
- En Pointe
- Oversway
- Last of the Uniltìranyu

There is also a short one-shot featuring Zha'nelle, Mìnkxetse and Tsawlontu called 'Harmless' that is set a few months after the close of 'Overload'.

I'd also like to thank my loyal reviewers for their support and encouragement during our mutual discovery of Zha'nelle te Manitowabi Eywa'ite and her story, even though I cruelly inflicted endless cliffhangers upon them. As I have told one or two of them, I am truly evil, and apologise not in the slightest.

Cheers.

broadhands.